Permanent Destination
by SilentLurker
Summary: Moriarty comes back from the dead to fix his mistake: Molly Hooper. He falls in love with her instead. He tries winning her heart by doing whatever it takes, even if it costs him everything. (Falling is just like flying...) [Molliarty, some Sherlolly]
1. Chapter 1 Moriarty's Mistake

**Permanent Destination**

A/N: Hello! SO I just stared watching Sherlock like two weeks ago and I freaking LOVE it and for a couple of days now I've been wanting to write a Molliarty fic, and I had like three different story ideas, and I decided to go with this one because the other two were a lot more serious and this one has a lot more humor in it (well at least that's what I'm aiming for).

Anyway, this is my first Sherlock fic so if anyone seems OOC then I'm really sorry.

GAHH I'm so excited to write this! Happy dance!

Okay enough of that, onto the story. I hope you like it!

Chapter 1 - Moriarty's Mistake

* * *

Once upon a time there was a girl named Molly Hooper. She was a fairly normal girl. Owned a cat named Toby, whom she was very fond of. Liked the color pink. Worked in a morgue at St. Bartholomew's Hospital as a specialist registrar (I guess that part isn't really normal, but, ya know, whatevs). ANYWAY the point is she was a perfectly normal perfect nice girl (with a couple of crazy friends...and psycho ex-boyfriends) who lead a perfectly normal life (thus far).

Ahem. Then there was a guy named Jim. Jim Moriarty. He WASN'T actually that normal. No, he wasn't anywhere NEAR normal. Like, at all. In fact, he was an insane psychopath. The exact insane psychopath that happened to be Molly's ex-boyfriend. He worked as a consulting criminal and he kidnapped and killed people and blew stuff up and basically he was an all-around jerk of the week. Plus he was kinda creepy. And _weird_.

These two people, Molly and Jim, Jim and Molly, were the two most different people who could ever have the misfortune of meeting. Molly was good. Jim was bad. Molly was light, Jim was dark. Molly was a smile, Jim was a smirk. Molly was friendly, Jim was freaky. And yet, fate played its little strings and struck it's chord, forcing them to meet and get to know each other. (Jim may have had something to do with that BUT he had no idea of the consequences.)

No, he had little idea of what would be happening in the future when he devised his little plan of using Molly Hooper to get to Sherlock Holmes.

He had no idea he would be falling in love with her.

And falling, as Jim Moriarty clearly knew, was just like flying, but with a more permanent destination.

And falling in _love_, was also like flying, but the permanent destination for Moriarty just so happened to be a person who also worked with dead people.

* * *

The room was silent.

Greg Lestrade stood at the door of Sherlock's flat in 211b Baker Street, staring at the faces of Sherlock, John, Mary, Molly, Mrs. Hudson, and Sally Donovan. The air was heavy of awkward tension. Everyone was standing up. Donovan had her arms crossed, glancing at Lestrade and then eyeing Sherlock suspiciously. Molly was staring at the ground. Mary and John were looking at each other worriedly. Sherlock had his hands clasped together, holding them to his nose in deep thought.

Mrs. Hudson piped up.

"Anyone fancy a cup of tea? Anyone? No?"

Nobody answered. Somebody coughed.

"Alright then, I'll just go make some."

She scurried off into the kitchen, leaving the six in their uncomfortable silence.

Lestrade cleared his throat.

"So... you all know why I'm here. No need in hiding it. I mine as well get to the point."

Sherlock's eyes snapped open.

"Moriarty is back and you want me to find him. Obviously."

Everyone cringed at the mention of the supposedly-dead consulting criminal. Lestrade suppressed a sigh and looked up at Sherlock, nodding his head. He opened his mouth to reply but Sherlock cut him off.

"You also want to put a personal security detail on Molly to ensure her safety because you're concerned Moriarty will go after her."

Everyone looked up at him when he said this, surprised at this piece of information. Molly stared at him, trying to keep her face as calm as she could but Sherlock could see fear in her eyes. Not as much as he would have expected, but still, it was there. A speck of uncertainty at what might happen to her in the future.

The attention was back on Lestrade as he replied, his voice raised in anger, "Well of COURSE I want to put a PSD on her now I now this lunatic is back! Wouldn't you? She's not safe!"

"Greg, it's fine, I'm actually-" Molly began, but her voice was quickly distinguished by Sherlock's next interruption.

"It's likely that Moriarty will want to know how I survived and when he finds out that Molly was the one who helped me then he'll want to fix his mistake."

"Fix his mistake?" John asked, curling his eyebrows in confusion.

"Yes. If it wasn't for Molly and my network of homeless people, Moriarty would have succeeded and I would have died on the rooftop of St. Bartholomew's Hospital." He pursed his lips. "Er, I would have died on the ground NEXT to the building of St. Bartho-"

"Yes, yes, you would have been a nice flat pancake," Mary said quickly, annoyed at his Sherlock-y-ness. "But how is that his mistake?"

"Moriarty had three snipers, three guns aimed at John, Lestrade, and Mrs. Hudson. What he didn't account for was Molly. If he had realized that Molly was important to me, he would have had a gun on her too and it would've all been over. But he didn't. He miscalculated. He forgot about her. It was his mistake."

This shut everyone up. From the kitchen they heard Mrs. Hudson drop a glass of tea on the floor.

Sherlock looked at Molly. She was staring at the floor again, letting it all sink in. He could see her face change from surprise to understanding. She looked up at Sherlock, her face unreadable for a split second.

"So you're telling me that Moriarty is for sure going to go after Molly?" Lestrade asked, breaking the silence.

Sherlock looked up. "I believe that it will definitely be an option that he will consider. Whether or not he'll act upon it, that's up to him. BUT I do believe it's a good idea to give Molly a security detail just in case I'm not there to protect her for some unknown reason."

"I absolutely agree!" Mrs. Hudson said, appearing in the living room, crossing her arms furiously with a broken tea cup in her left hand.

"Mrs. Hudson, our tea?" Sherlock demanded rudely.

"Oh! Right!" She left immediately.

John glared at Sherlock and Mary rolled her eyes.

"Right, then," Lestrade announced. "Then it's settled-"

"No, it's not." Molly said loudly, speaking up and making everyone turn to look at her. "Shouldn't I have a say on my own security detail, without everyone else deciding everything for me?"

Lestrade opened his mouth and then closed it. Sherlock blinked. Mary nodded her head proudly, probably thinking something like "Atta' girl!"

Donovan spoke up, "All due respect, Miss Hooper, but if there's a crazed psychopath out there planning on 'fixing his mistake', then by all means there's nothing you can do to stop the police from _protecting_ you from him."

"Key word: _if_. And I'm perfectly capable of protecting myself, thanks." Molly said, placing her hands on her hips. "Oh, and there actually _is_ something I can do to stop you from doing everything you think you can do without any consent: saying no thank you."

John raised his eyebrows in shock, his lips curling in a smile. He was impressed at Molly's choice of words and her amount of courage at standing up for herself. Mary was practically beaming with pride (for, by the way, a girl she barely knew). John shrugged that part off, figuring it was pregnant-woman-girly stuff he would never understood.

And would never want to understand.

Lestrade cleared his throat again. "Of course, Molly, if you don't want police protection then we won't force it on you."

Molly nodded at him and smiled kindly. "Thank you Greg. I'm sorry it's just I..." she trailed off, staring at her feet.

Just then Mrs. Hudson rushed in with the tea. Lestrade, Mary, and John all took a cup gratefully. She tried to offer one to Molly, who was in obvious distress, but the younger girl refused.

Molly sighed.

"I just feel like if he _does_ come after me, it'll be something I'll have to eventually face. It's inevitable. I can't be protected... I can't hide from him forever."

There were nods of agreements, and sounds of sympathy (mostly from Mrs. Hudson, who again dropped a cup of tea and then ran to the kitchen in frustration, cursing loudly) and after a few more minutes of talking and then saying goodbye, Lestrade and Donovan left. Mary and Molly sat down, and Sherlock closed his eyes to think.

"Are you feeling okay?" Mary asked Molly, her face concerned.

Molly nodded her head, smiling shyly. "Oh I'm fine. I just got a bit sassy for a minute there when I didn't mean to. It was kind of fun."

Mary laughed and John smiled, causing Molly to smile genuinely.

Sherlock popped an eye open in annoyance.

"Don't know WHY everyone's in a good mood when there's a psychotic murder on the loose."

That pretty much killed the mood, and everyone stopped smiling.

John squinted at his taller companion. "Why do you have to go and do that? Every time? You ruin the mood, Sherlock."

"Just being logical." Sherlock muttered, both eyes closed again.

"Logical? Yeah, well, sometimes it's okay to have a bit of humor in the midst of a crisis." John replied, and while they started to bicker, and Sherlock randomly complained that he never got any tea and demanded Mrs. Hudson make him some more ("Not your housekeeper!"), Mary rolled her eyes and turned back to the morgue specialist registrar.

"So," she began, careful not to tread too deep on shallow waters. She liked Molly and she could tell that this girl was a quiet, personal type that liked keeping her secrets and feelings locked up. But she wanted to know what was going on inside her head. She felt that Molly was keeping something from them. That there was more to her feelings on the situation than meets the eye.

"Are you scared?"

Molly thought about it for a second. She didn't really need to, she already knew her answer. She looked up at Mary and gave her answer.

"Not really. For some reason I'm a lot less scared then I know I should be."

Mary nodded her head. There it is. That's what she was keeping from them.

"You dated the most dangerous man in England, probably the entire world, and he lied to you and used you to get close to Sherlock. Now he's coming back for you. And you're not scared?" Mary asked, admittedly a bit shocked, but also not really surprised at the same time. Molly had been calm throughout the entire time, and she seemed so calm even now.

The girl shrugged. "I feel as tho I never knew him when he was dangerous, which is true, and so I don't really know the full extent of what he's capable of. I mean I know what he's capable of- I know what he's done- but what I'm trying to say is that-"

"You've been with him when he was perfectly normal so that's the version of him that's stuck inside your head?" Mary suggested.

"Almost. I know what it's like to be with him- not the real him, obviously- but there's still a man underneath all that psychotic behavior somewhere and I feel that when he confronts me, which I know he will, I can't avoid it... I feel like he'll act a man."

Mary stared at her and then stared down, taking this into deep thought.

"Does that make any sense? Oh my gosh I'm a lunatic!" Molly cried, and Mary laughed and shook her head, making Molly smile and laugh as well.

"No, of course you're not a lunatic! I understand what you're trying to say. I think..."

The two girls looked at each other and then laughed again, earning the attention of John and Sherlock.

"Sounds like you two are getting along quite fine." John said, smiling down at the ladies.

"Yes! And you know what? I just had the absolutely perfect idea in my mind just now." Mary said excitedly, and John put his hand on her shoulder and asked,

"And what's that?"

"The four of us on a lunch date!"

Sherlock, who at up to this point had been faintly smiling due to Mary's adorable excitedness, frowned instantly.

As did Molly.

They both looked at each other. And then quickly looked away.

John almost facepalmed.

"Come on you two! It would be so lovely, just the four of us, somewhere nice and not too out of the way."

Molly cleared her throat and then smiled brightly. "Well it sounds delightful. I'd love to."

They all looked at Sherlock, awaiting the final answer.

He looked at all of them.

"Er, sorry, can't make it, far too many cases, so little time, not enough money, boring excuses like that I'm afraid."

"Too many cases?" John demanded.

"Yes! I need to locate a consulting criminal, if you don't mind me, and that leaves me absolutely no time for lunch."

"No lunch? Every day this week?" Mary asked, eyeing him.

"And next week." Sherlock said quickly. As an afterthought he added, "Actually I'm skipping lunch this entire month. Taking it out of the hard drive for a while. I needed some extra room."

As they continued talking (and then fighting) about it, they eventually got Sherlock to agree on one short lunch date for the four of them. After that Molly went home, and then Mary and John.

The whole walk home (as Molly didn't live that far away from Sherlock), she couldn't help but feel she was being watched. She felt that a pair of eyes were on her the entire walk home, and even when she turned around (only once) to make sure she was alone, she concluded that the sidewalk was empty except for her. And yet she still felt a pair of eyes watching her.

When she arrived home (hang up coat, feed the cat, pick up living room), and after she went to bed she no longer felt like she was being watched. She turned off her lamp and went to bed.

But outside on the street, staring at her window through dark sunglasses, was the man who made the mistake. The move that had cost him everything. His entire life.

Jim Moriarty. The King; the world's only consulting criminal. He smirked to himself, thinking what he thought would bring him his perfect satisfaction. Killing the girl who ruined everything.

But Jim Moriarty had no idea what was in store for him; sometimes he neglected to listen to his own advice. Because falling is JUST like flying. But with a more permanent destination.

And Molly Hooper was Moriarty's permanent destination.


	2. Chapter 2 Miss Me?

A/N: Hey guys! Sorry that this update took forever (not really forever only like eight-ish days but that's way longer then I wanted it to be meh) but school and homework got in the way so I couldn't finish it until tonight. Thank you for the reviews! They were really sweet and they made me smile so much. :) Anywho I hope yall like this chapter!

Chapter 2 - Miss Me?

* * *

The day started like any other for Molly Hooper. Waking up, feeding Toby, getting ready for the day and then grabbing some breakfast and running out the door for work at the same time. The sky was a bright blue and the sun was shining happily, which usually would've made her smile happily, but she was too busy being rushed to work and hoping that she wouldn't be late. For her it was just another normal day. She didn't expect anything out of the ordinary to happen. Nope, nothing weird was going to happen to her today, especially nothing scary or freaky or even just a little bit exciting.

Nothing ever did.

At the hospital she was working her butt off, examining dead bodies one right after the other. She had _no_ idea that right above her head, hiding inside a vent and just barely starting to sweat, was a consulting criminal; watching her every move.

Yes, oh yes, Jim Moriarty (with his latest in very bad ideas) was squished up inside a vent and was watching Molly's every move. His face peeked out from the vent so that if Molly looked up she would probably see dark brown swimming among a pool of white, and she would probably be very confused (and then she would realize they were eyes and she'd scream and... _anyway_ Moriarty crossed his fingers that she wouldn't look up).

So far, watching Molly Hooper work was very _boring_. All she did was cut up dead people (absolutely disgusting) and examine body parts (boring) and cut up more dead people. Moriarty was starting to sweat really bad, and it was starting to smell. _And_ he couldn't reach his cell phone. He was also starting to wonder how the heck he would get out of there.

Just when he was starting to panic, something interesting happened. Sherlock's name was mentioned. Moriarty craned his neck to listen. He saw that Molly was standing a few feet away from someone that she had been cutting up, but now she was on her phone and talking to someone.

"Sherlock? No, he hasn't been here today. Why do you ask?" Molly said into the phone.

Moriarty figured she was probably talking to a "girlfriend" or something.

"Yeah, he comes in sometimes when he needs my help. What? No, don't be silly!" Molly rolled her eyes, and Moriarty curled his eyebrows in frustration. What had her friend said!?

"Yeah, well I think you're mad. Sherlock is in love with his work. Besides, I'm over it, remember?"

Moriarty frowned, still pretty much COMPLETELY confused. Over what? What was she over?!

"Ok, sure. I'll see you for lunch! Bye!" Molly hung up and slipped the phone into her pocket. Then she went back to work.

Jim sighed. This was getting him no where. He was hot and sweaty, and smelly, _and_ hungry, and most likely stuck. And bored.

Suddenly the sound of glass shattering made him look down. Molly had apparently dropped a piece of glass. She stared down at the ground, her eyes surprised behind the goggles she was wearing. She blinked.

Jim rolled his eyes.

Somebody rushed in, and Molly quickly used her shoe to scoot the glass underneath a nearby table. She cleared her throat and then smiled brightly.

"Is everything ok? I thought I heard a glass break." The person asked, and Moriarty assumed he was a co-worker as he was wearing a white coat similar to Molly's.

"Yeah, everything's fine! You must've imagined it; no broken glass here!" She smiled up at him and the man frowned before leaving. After he left Molly sighed and then cleaned up the glass. "How embarrassing!" She muttered to herself, before getting back to work.

Moriarty squinted. That was interesting, he thought to himself. She had lied to her co-worker to hide the embarrassment of dropping a piece of glass. Hmm. Very interesting...

A second later he realized that she was taking her coat off and turning the lights off and then she was gone, off to her lunch break.

All was quiet. Dark and quiet. Jim wiggled and pushed his way backwards, but it was no use. He was stuck.

Jim Moriarty would have to call for help.

* * *

Molly stepped outside and right into a downpour of rain. She cursed herself for forgetting to bring an umbrella, but then again there hadn't been any forecasts for rain this evening. So _why_ was it raining so hard? Either way, she was already drenched and for some odd reason she couldn't get a cab so she had to walk the entire way home.

Before stepping into her flat, Molly glanced across the street, feeling her spine prickle in discomfort. The entire street was abandoned. She didn't see or hear anything over the loud thundering rain. Shrugging it off, she went inside and began to heat up a pot of soup.

While she was busy in the kitchen, Jim Moriarty was busy breaking inside her flat. It was easy as pie, but he still made sure to be extra quiet so that she wouldn't hear him. He crept inside her living room and glanced around, remembering the times he was here with her watching cheesy chic flicks and the time when she forced him to watch _Glee_. He shivered at the memory. Suddenly he looked around suspiciously, hoping her cat wasn't around. What was it's name again? Tobs? Tobble? Eh, something stupid like that, he thought to himself as he crossed the living, praying that it wouldn't randomly appear.

He hated cats.

_Hated_ them.

(Tho Molly thought otherwise...well _used_ to think otherwise.)

Jim faced the kitchen, which was separated from the living room by a wall but had an open window in it so that he could see Molly, her back facing him, searching through the fridge. She couldn't see him yet, but the consulting criminal couldn't wait until she did. It would be the shock of the century for her, seeing him come back to life. Of course she probably already knew he was alive, but seeing him on a TV screen and seeing him in her own living room were two completely different things.

He stood there and waited, hands in his pocket, with a smirk on his face.

He waited. And waited.

AND WAITED.

Suddenly Jim realized Molly had headphones in her ears, and she was listening to music.

Jim sighed in frustration. He tried to get her attention by waving his arms and throwing a pillow (it missed and hit the wall) and even yelling her name but nothing would work. He rested his head in his hands and groaned. Why couldn't she just turn around?!

Suddenly he heard a scream. He looked up and saw Molly staring at him in surprise. He quickly regained his composure and then smirked, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Miss me?"

Molly yanked out her headphones and stomped into the living room, abandoning her pot of soup and her music. She stood a few feet away from Moriarty and glared out him.

"Oh my goodness! You scared the_ heck_ out of me!"

Jim raised his eyebrow and looked around. "Yeah, that was kinda the point." He smiled at her with his teeth.

Molly continued glaring at him, looking pretty darn upset (not _exactly_ the reaction Jim was expecting, but still extremely entertaining).

"You can't just break into my house whenever you feel like it! Did you break down my door or break my lock or-?!"

"Molly darling, calm down! Nothing is broken." He smiled at her calmly, and then his expression quickly changed to irritation. "But aren't you just a little bit SHOCKED that I've come back to life?"

Molly stared at him carefully, trying not to show how scared she really was. Here he was again, not Jim from IT, but Jim Moriarty. The real Jim. A maniac and a murderer and a very, very dangerous man. He looked the same exact tallness as before, but his eyes looked a lot darker then she remembered. His face looked paler and very sinister, not at all like the kind, dorky-but-adorable Jim from IT she used to know. All in all he looked completely different, especially with the very expensive suit he was wearing. It was hard to believe this was the very same man who liked Glee and cats and all the same things she had liked and who had "fallen in love" with her.

It _was_ the same man. The only difference was that this time, there were no lies. This was his true self, and that's exactly how she wanted it to be. No lies this time.

Jim smirked at her silence. "Hmm. You don't seem very scared."

"You don't seem very scary."

Moriarty laughed and then walked closer to her, invading her personal bubble. He smirked down at her and then opened his mouth to say something but before he could get a word out she interrupted.

"I know why you're here," she said bravely, staring up into his eyes with fire in her own. "You're here to kill me, to fix you're mistake. You didn't realize I was important to Sherlock, that I was his friend, and so it ruined your entire plan. That's why you came back. To get rid of me."

Molly held her ground, holding his eye as he raised his eyebrow and said, "Well, Molly darling, you're a smart girl. Shame Sherlock only sees you as a friend."

She quickly looked away and frowned. "Wouldn't matter anyway. That's all I want him to see me as..."

Jim wiggled his eyebrows and Molly looked up and stared at him coldly, suddenly very angry at him. What was this guy's deal?!

Finally Jim shrugged his shoulders dramatically and then walked away, telling her, "Well okay then, if you insist. But you still are a smart girl. I _am_ here to kill you. You were the one thing that I did _not_ account for. The one thing I didn't realize would ACTUALLY be important. But I guess you were important. You helped Sherlock fake his own death, because apparently he needs help with that sort of thing. Boring!"

Suddenly he turned around and pulled a gun out of his pocket, aiming it at Molly's forehead. She flinched at this action, staring at the gun in fear.

"How did he do it?" Moriarty demanded, his voice deadly calm and the smirk no longer on his face.

Molly glared at him, the fear and anger a mixed expression on her face. Her lips were a thin line.

"How did you help him fake his death?" Moriarty repeated, his voice rising.

"I will not tell you ANYTHING!" Molly shouted at him, her glare colder than ice.

Jim frowned at her, genuinely confused at her reaction. Shouldn't she be on her knees, begging for mercy by now? Like everyone else? _Why_ was she resisting?

He walked closer to her, placed the gun on her forehead with his finger on the trigger, and leaned down and said as softly as he could into her ear,

"I will kill you if you don't tell me how he did it. So, Molly Hooper; start speaking..."

Suddenly the smoke alarm went off.

Jim stood up straight and Molly whipped her head around, both staring towards the kitchen where the pot of soup was completely caught on fire. Molly ran to the kitchen (Jim right behind her) and immediately began searching for something in the cabinets. Jim stared at her like she was crazy.

"What are you doing looking in the cabinets for?!" He demanded.

She ignored him.

Yelling in frustration, Jim quickly grabbed a random cup from the counter, filled it with water from the sink, and then splashed it into the fire.

The flames just grew bigger.

"WHAT?!" Jim yelled in confusion, and Molly snatched the cup from his hand and yelled,

"You idiot! You're supposed to use baking soda!"

"Well excuuuse me for trying to help!"

Molly just glared at him and then went back to the cabinets. A few seconds later she found the baking soda and dumped it onto the fire until the fire was no more. After that fire alarm stopped and all was quiet.

Jim leaned against the counter, still holding his gun in one hand, and running his other hand through his hair. He stared at the burnt pot of soup.

Molly leaned against the opposite counter, staring at the ground and catching her breath. She crossed her arms and then looked up at the burnt pot, now covered with baking soda.

Jim whistled. "That doesn't look very tasty."

She glared at him, but remained quiet.

Jim coughed in awkward silence.

"Now, about Sherlock faking his death...?"

Molly completely ignored him and left the kitchen. Moriarty gasped dramatically, appalled that she would just leave him in the middle of their "conversation".

"And where do you think YOU'RE going?" Jim asked, following her into the living room.

Molly whirled around and stared at him in anger. "To order some dinner; now that my dinner just went up in smoke I have nothing to eat and I really don't feel like making anything else! And I appreciate you trying to help me back there trying to put the fire out but I am _not_ going to tell you how I helped Sherlock fake his death so you mineaswell just kill me, if that's what you came here to do!"

Jim raised both eyebrows, shocked at her random outburst of emotion. She stood with her arms crossed, waiting for him to make a move. So far he was still just standing there, but she could tell he was thinking things over. Making a decision.

"Well? What are you waiting for? Just do it!" She cried out, probably pushing things but she didn't care. She wanted him to _do_ something. She wanted _something_ to happen. She wanted to know if she was going to die or if everything was going to be alright. With her, with Molly Hooper- nothing ever happened. She never knew if everything was going to be alright. And sometimes... sometimes she felt like dying might be a better alternative. A way out. Better then the life she was living now. A life where she had no family. A life where the man she loved took advantage of her and didn't return her feelings. Where everyone she _thought_ cared about her_ lied_ to her, because they really didn't care at all.

She was sick of it all, and now that she had a chance for something exciting, maybe a beginning, maybe an end, she wanted it. She didn't care which one.

She wanted it to happen.

Jim Moriarty raised his hand, the one with the gun in it. He saw as Molly solemnly bowed her head and then closed her eyes. He wished she hadn't done that, because then she wouldn't get to see him put the gun back into his pocket.

He shrugged it off. It didn't matter that much, he'd be seeing more of her soon anyway. He pocketed his gun and then walked away.

Molly popped one eye open at the sound of his fading footsteps. She opened both her eyes and then turned and watched him walk away. Her eyes widened in surprise.

"Wait... what?" She asked, not realizing it sounded stupid until after it came out of her mouth.

Jim smiled and then turned back. He raised his hands up in a mock-surrender fashion.

"I'm not going to kill you." He told her.

"But... why?"

"I've changed my mind." He just smiled at her mysteriously and started walking away again. She followed him until they reached the door.

"So that's it then? You come here to kill me and now you've just changed your mind?"

Moriarty nodded.

"Why?!"

"I guess that's something we'll just have to wait to find out." After that he smirked, and then left.

Molly stood alone at the door, darting her eyes back and forth, thinking, _what the bloody heck was that all about_?

She wandered into the living room where she found Toby stretching on the couch, awake from his evening nap. She scratched the back of his ear absentmindedly, still thinking about everything that had just happened, when the doorbell rang.

It was Jim Moriarty. Again.

"Oh by the way, forgot to tell you, if you tell ANYONE about our little encounter today- Lestrade, Sherlock, your sweet little friends- then I WILL kill you."

He smiled at her sweetly and she squinted at him.

"Of course, I wouldn't _dream_ of telling anyone."

He smirked at her and said, "That's the spirit! Ta ta for now!"

* * *

A/N: Just to let ya know, water really does make a grease fire worse. Do NOT use water for a grease fire. And baking soda actually does help but not if the fire is really big. I'd suggest using a fire extinguisher. So yeah. Yay for learning!

ANYWAY, I FINALLY finished the second chapter. Life really gets in the way of my fanfic writing. Goodness. Oh well. I hope you enjoyed this! Please review and tell me what you thought! I'll give you a cupcake if you review.

A cupcake with Jim's face on it! :D


	3. Chapter 3 The Perfect Piece

A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed! You don't know how much your words mean to me. =) Seriously they make me smile so much.

ANYWHO here be teh next chaptah (finally). I hope yall like it!

Chapter 3 - The Perfect Piece

* * *

Lunch with Sherlock, for Molly, was something she had dreamed of for a long time. Lunch with Sherlock, John, and Mary, was something Molly _hadn't_ dreamed of for a long time. And now that her engagement with Tom was off, going on a date with someone (especially Sherlock, of all people) was going to be very awkward. Very awkward indeed. She felt uncomfortable just thinking about it. There was also the little fact that Jim Moriarty, the highly dangerous consulting criminal, had been at her house the night before. And threatened to kill her if she told anyone about it.

Molly Hooper ran around her apartment, throwing on her coat and pulling on a shoe and combing fingers through her hair (Toby watched her curiously). Every time she ran the scenario in her head, it just didn't make sense. She should be _dead_. She knew that. But she wasn't dead; Moriarty had let her walk free.

He had _changed his mind_.

Was it because of her soup catching on fire? Or because she didn't tell him anything about Sherlock?

Molly sighed and ran out the door, late for the lunch date with her friends. She tried to push these confusing thoughts out of her mind. She'd think about it later. Right now she had other things to worry about.

* * *

So far lunch was going... well, it was going.

Mary was talking constantly about random crap, John nodded his head like he was listening but was actually just focused on his food, Sherlock was quiet most of the time but interrupted here and there to put in his own opinion, and Molly was nervous. Very, very nervous.

She wanted to tell them SO badly about Moriarty's little visit- but she knew she couldn't. She felt like such a liar sitting next to Sherlock and not telling him. It wasn't her fault that she couldn't tell him (death threats were serious business) but she still felt guilty.

"-and we're still thinking on what to do for the nursery but there's so many options. Molly are you listening?" Mary was saying. Molly blinked and looked up, noticing that everyone was staring at her. John stared at her, still chewing on food.

"What? Oh, yes! I mean- no, I guess I just fazed out. What are we talking about?" Molly asked, her cheeks turning red from embarrassment.

"Mary was telling us her preparations for when Sherlock Jr. arrives." Sherlock said, eyeing Molly suspiciously.

John almost choked on his food. "Goodness sake, Sherlock, we are _not_ naming our baby after you."

Sherlock and Molly looked at each other. Sherlock smirked and Molly laughed loudly and nervously. Sherlock frowned.

"Ah ha ha, yeah, that's funny Sherlock," Molly said awkwardly.

"Are you doing alright dear? You seem kind of _distracted_ today." Mary said, her face frowning in concern.

Molly stood up abruptly. Everyone looked up at her.

"I'm fine, I just have to use the restroom. I'll be right back." Molly grabbed her purse and left for the loo. Everyone stared at her until she was out of sight.

"I wonder what's going on with her." John said, continuing eating his chips.

Mary shook her head in worry and Sherlock remained quiet, darting his eyes back and forth and thinking it over in his mind, trying to come up with a logical conclusion as to why Molly was acting so strange.

Molly rushed into the bathroom, which was, thankfully, empty, and stood in front of the sink. She was trying to calm herself down when suddenly she felt the presence of someone else in the room.

She looked up in the mirror and almost had a heart attack.

Jim Moriarty stepped up into the light, but not before locking the door to the girls bathroom. He stood in front of the door and smirked at her.

"Surprise!"

Molly was, somehow, not surprised.

"How is lunch going? I do hope you're enjoying yourself."

"You have to leave _now_. Sherlock is here and if he knows you're here-"

"Oh, I know, exciting isn't it? But don't worry my darling, as much as I want to go out there and mess with him, I'm not going to."

Molly eyed him carefully, wondering what he was doing here and what he was _planning_ on doing.

"So," he said as he started walking closer. "How _is_ your date with Sherlock Holmes going? As I recall, you wanted him to be just a_ friend_."

Molly blushed and replied, "We're not on a _date_. We're just... accompanying each other for lunch along with Mary and John. And we _are_ just friends." She crossed her arms and gave him a pointed look. "By the way, this is the GIRLS bathroom. You should probably go."

Jim gave her an amused smile. "Are you trying to tell me you don't enjoy my company? Why, Molly; I'm hurt. You used to like having me around."

Molly glared at him. Something in her snapped and she (almost) yelled, "_That_ was all a lie, Moriarty, don't pretend like it wasn't! You only pretended to like me to get close to Sherlock. You _used_ me!"

Moriarty chuckled, walking even closer, and said, "Oh Molz don't tell me you're still upset over _that_. Please don't take it _personally_. I had to use _someone_ to get close to Sherlock, and you were the perfect choice." He smirked at her, a cruel smile that Molly wanted to slap right off of his face.

So she did.

Before she realized what she was doing, she slapped him in the face and then walked away.

Jim stood there, flabbergasted. Did that just happen? He put a hand on his cheek to check and felt the sting from her slap still there.

Yep. That definitely just happened.

Jim was _NOT_ okay with this. Not one bit.

He twisted around and grabbed Molly's wrists, holding them tightly. She struggled to get away but he pulled her close to him and held a tight grip on her wrists, trapping her. He stared down at her with a look that was so calm and yet dangerous at the same time,

Molly didn't know which was worse; his painful grip on her wrists, or his deathstare.

"That wasn't very nice, now was it?" He asked her calmly, a voice matching his dangerous facial expression.

Molly struggled again and demanded for him to let her go. He didn't comply.

"Listen carefully, my _dear_. Sherlock and I are playing a game. I needed something to help me jump ahead so that I could get a close look at him, but without getting caught. You were the perfect piece to help me achieve that goal."

Molly looked up at him. Their faces were inches apart.

"So that's all I ever was to you?" She asked him, the words spilling out of her mouth. "A game piece? Just part of your stupid game?" She looked hurt.

A second later she realized how naive and stupid that sounded. _Of course that's all I was to him. Why did I even say that?_

Jim stared at her for a long time after that, not saying anything. Molly felt like she had forgotten how to breath. For a second she could've sworn his gaze on her softened, just for a second, but then his face hardened again and he said,

"Yes...the one piece of chess that I needed. And the one that I forgot about."

He smirked at her, causing her to glare at him and then rip her arms out of his grasp.

"Well then why didn't you kill me, huh? If I'm so unimportant then why didn't you finish the job?" She demanded, crossing her arms.

Jim backed away and sighed dramatically. "I told you yesterday that you would have to wait to find out. Darling, you have to be _patient_." He smiled at her and shook his head, making a "tsk, tsk" noise with his mouth.

Molly rolled her eyes and was about to reply when suddenly there was a knock on the bathroom door.

"Molly? It's Mary," the voice on the other side of the door said in concern. "Are you ok? You've been in there for a while."

Molly froze instantly. _Crap!_ They were trapped. If Mary saw her inside the girl's bathroom with _Jim Moriarty_, she was screwed.

She looked at Jim for help but he just shrugged carelessly.

"Yeah I'm fine- uh- just a second!" Molly said loudly towards the door. She looked back at Jim, who was scratching his face while also sending a text. He looked pretty darn bored.

Molly's face fell.

"You are no help at all!" She mouthed at him angrily.

Moriarty shrugged and opened his mouth to reply but Molly didn't let him. She clamped a hand over his mouth (much to his shock and dismay) and then shoved him into a stall.

"Stay here and DON'T come out!" She threatened quietly.

"You just wrinkled my suit! This is WESTWOOD, you know!" Jim whispered back angrily.

"I don't care! Now shut up and STAY shut up!"

Molly closed the stall door and then unlocked the bathroom door.

Mary walked in.

"Are you doing alright?" She asked curiously, glancing around the bathroom before landing her eyes on Molly.

While Molly assured Mary that she was fine, Jim was standing on a toilet in a stall in the girl's bathroom and becoming very cross because the whole thing was very uncouth and uncomfortable. He tried not to groan in annoyance or make any kind of sound to alert John's wife that he was there. Although it would be SO fun to see the look on her face, and especially the look on Sherlock's face if he found out that he was there, he only came to see Molly and no one else.

A few minutes later Molly and Mary left the bathroom, leaving Moriarty alone. He sighed in relief. _Finally I can get down from here!_ He grabbed the walls of the stall and began his descent, thinking how suckish it would be if his foot slipped into the toilet.

Suddenly his left foot slipped and fell into the toilet.

* * *

The sound of the alarm reached her ears and she moved her arm over to the nightstand to silence it.

The sound immediately stopped. She opened her eyes and yawned.

Another Saturday. No work.

Thank _goodness_.

Sausages and eggs for breakfast, sizzling on the stove. The sound of the TV coming from the living room, where Toby was laying on the couch, already having finished his breakfast. Molly slipped into the living room real quick to change the channel (Toby was playing with the remote again, yet he still looked perfectly innocent).

She was flipping through the channels when suddenly she saw an episode of Glee and it reminded her of a certain someone. A certain someone she hadn't seen in 3 weeks.

She turned the TV off and returned to the kitchen, thinking about her "ex-boyfriend" who had turned out to be a criminal. After turning off the stove and sitting down to eat (and then realizing her appetite was gone), she sighed to herself in anger.

Three weeks. He came to her twice, threatened to kill her if she told anyone, and now it was three weeks later and he hadn't been back.

She should just go to the police and tell them what happened. It wouldn't be much useful information, but at least it would be honest information.

She knew _that_ would never happen, tho. And not because he threatened to kill her.

Molly stared out the window, not paying attention to the outside world but drowning in her own thoughts and wonders and confusions. And her own selfish lies.

She felt guilty admitting it to herself. But hiding it and NOT admitting it made her feel even guiltier.

The real reason she didn't tell anyone that Moriarty had come to her was because she secretly wanted him to come to her _again._

She wanted to see him again.

All the sudden there was a crash and the window she had been staring at was broken; glass scattered all over the floor. Standing on that glass was a figure dressed up in all black with a mask over his face. He was holding a very large gun.

Molly was about to scream for help when suddenly the world around her turned dark and she slipped into unconsciousness.

* * *

A/N: Well, there ya go. I hope you liked it! I tried not to make Molly too hardcore rebellious and Jim whiny, because I hate writing characters OOC, but I'm not sure if I accomplished that. Personally I like rebellious Molly (and in season 3 she's been less shy around Sherlock so I guess that's not too OOC, maybe) but I hate whiny!Moriarty. He's NOT whiny and complainy and feminine or whatever. He's dangerous and a psychopath and crazy.

SO YEAH. Please comment and tell me what ya think!


	4. Chapter 4 I Was A Monster

A/N: GUYS THANK YEW SO MUCH FER TEH REVIEWS! GAWSH. I LOVE YALL SO MUCH I COULD JUST DIE.

Just real quick I wanted to tell The Green Eyed Cat that I'm SORRY but it's not gonna be like that in this chapter (Jim coming to the rescue for Molly). BUT, I will say that you won't be disappointed- especially in future chapters, if that's the kind of thing that you're hoping for. ;) Muahahahahhaha cough gag cough aha ha yeah... anyway... oh and thank you! ^.^

OK ONTO THE STORY!

Chapter 4 - I Was A Monster

* * *

Darkness. Fuzziness inside her ears. The noise of birds chirping, then springing from a branch and flying away. Blink once. Blink twice. Vision slowly coming into focus...

Molly sat up and rubbed her head. She blinked a couple more times and then glanced around the room, wondering what had happened. Quickly, she did a double take. This definitely wasn't her tiny, messy flat. Oh ho ho, no. Whoever lived here had to be rich. She was in a large room (the word coming to mind for her was "parlor') with very fancy furniture, a large brick fireplace, an expansive-looking rug covering the floor, and many beautiful paintings covering the walls. There was only one window, in the far left corner near the fireplace, that showed the outside world. Molly stood up and walked over to it to take a look outside. There was a gloomy looking garden with a lovely array of beautiful flowers, and behind that was a hedge maze.

She raised her eyebrows. It was a breathtaking sight!

Suddenly memories from before her blackout swept into her mind. A man broke into her house... dressed all in black... and he was carrying a gun. After that, she was out. She looked down at her body, suddenly frantic, but she didn't see nor feel a gunshot wound. She was perfectly fine. Not hurt or injured. Her head hurt a little bit, but other then that, the only thing wrong she could think of was that she had _just been kidnapped_!

There was no time to waste. Whoever had done this would probably be back soon, and she had to get out of there. Without another thought, Molly left the parlor and entered the hallway, attempting to find her way out of this (what she soon figured out) mansion. It wasn't easy, considering every turn lead to another hallway and every hallway lead to another turn and so on and blah blah blah.

She was just walking (running, really) down another hallway when suddenly she heard voices and she stopped dead in her tracks. They were coming from behind the brown door to her left, a couple feet away from her. Slowly, ever so slowly, Molly crept towards the door and put her head against it to listen.

"...still on that diet, I understand?"

Molly's eyes popped out of her head. It was _Jim Moriarty_; the voice she had just heard. She was sure of it.

And HOW was she _not_ surprised that HE had kidnapped her? (Or he was at least part of it, that was certain.)

She stood there, welling up with anger, as she continued listening in.

"I'm not on a bloody _diet_. I just never liked this stuff, ok?"

Molly's eyebrows curled in confusion at the new voice that had spoken. She definitely didn't know who this was. All she knew was that he was a guy. (And that he wasn't on a diet... _apparently_.)

"Alright, you don't have to freak out! ...It was just a question."

"I'm not freaking out."

"Course not."

Molly was getting annoyed. What was she waiting for? It was time she put her fears aside. Time to be brave.

She took a deep breath, swallowed, and then entered the room.

She barely made it three feet inside when the sight made her stop walking.

It was a kitchen. Large (of course), everything was clean and fancy, yet very old-looking at the same time (old mansion). Sitting on a stool at the counter was Jim Moriarty, who Molly had been expecting. What she had _not_ been expecting was to find him eating ice cream, lots and lots of ice cream. Rocky Road and Dutch Chocolate, and even Cookie Dough.

He was eating them straight from the containers themselves.

Standing on the other side of the counter was the man who's voice Molly didn't recognize, but as soon as she saw him her eyes widened. He was the _guy_. The man dressed all in black- the man that broke into her flat. He was wearing the exact same black outfit (minus the face mask). He had short dirt blonde hair, dark green eyes, and a solid, stern face that didn't show any emotion.

"Well it's about time you woke up, sleepyhead!" Jim announced, smiling at her like everything that was going on was perfectly normal.

Molly eyed the green-eyed man cautiously. He stared right back at her with unfathomable eyes; his expression completely unreadable. She tried to ignore him for now, walking up to Jim and crossing her arms.

"What the _heck_ is going on, Moriarty? Where am I? Who is this?" She nodded to the man standing a few feet away, knowing perfectly well that she was in no position to be making demands (and also thinking in despair that she probably looked really stupid).

But _wait_. Why would she care how she looked in front of _Moriarty_?

Jim swallowed his ice cream and raised his eyebrows high; being assaulted with questions was NOT something he enjoyed.

"Whoa there, Molly dear, one thing at a time. Well I suppose introductions are in order. This is Sebastian Moran; professional sniper. Seb, meet Molly."

Seb nodded his head at her politely and said, "Sorry I had to give you such a scare. Boss' orders."

Molly nodded back, feeling awkward, and then turned her attention back to Jim (who was mostly just interested in his ice cream).

"So let me get this straight... he works for you."

"Yup."

"And you hired him to _kidnap_ me?"

Jim looked up, mid spoonful-of-ice-cream-in-mouth. He glanced at Seb, who was scratching his neck and trying not to be apart of the conversation. Jim looked back at Molly. He replied, mouthful of ice cream,

"Well technically Seb did... but yes, I did have you kidnapped." He swallowed and then dabbed at his face with a napkin before continuing. "I was rather bored and I hadn't seen you in such a long time..." He stared at Molly, indicating that he was serious, but she just glared at him

She looked pretty angry.

Jim held up his bowl of ice cream, smiled, and blinked. "Ice cream?" He offered.

Finally she exploded and threw her hands in the air, yelling, "I can't believe you! You can't just go around kidnapping people whenever you feel like! And by the way- you disappear for three weeks and now you just decide you want to see me again?! You think you can do whatever you want! You're JUST like Sherlock! You're- you're- you're insufferable!"

Molly stormed out of the kitchen in rage, and Jim quickly followed her.

"Molly, darling, come _on_. Molly?" He chased her all the way through the hallways back to the parlor, where he found her running around frantically and searching for something.

"What are doing?"

"Looking for my bloody shoes!"

"You didn't arrive with shoes, Molly. Seb carried you in and you didn't have any on. He said he broke into your flat and you fainted on the spot."

Molly groaned in annoyance. She crossed her arms in front of her, suddenly and consciously aware that she was still wearing her PJ's; a baggy black T shirt and grey sweats. She didn't even want to think about how messy her hair was. But _why_ did she care about her appearance in front of Jim Moriarty?

Jim stood there staring at her with a funny look on his face, half amused and half entranced, like he couldn't take his attention off of her even if he tried. Molly found this making her start to blush, so she coughed and then attempted conversation until she could think of an escape plan.

"So where are we exactly?" She asked.

"My place."

The girl blinked in surprise. "Your place? You live _here_? But this is... a _mansion_."

Moriarty chuckled and nodded his head. "You didn't think I lived in a boring old house, did you?"

Molly just shrugged, not knowing what to say.

Suddenly he offered her to sit down on the black and white couch closest to them, the same couch that she had awoken on. Cautiously, and eyeing him the entire time, Molly walked over to it and sat down, noting how plush and comfortable it was (she hadn't really had time to notice that detail before). He sat across from her on a fancy-schmancy (but old-looking at the same time) recliner. In fact, it looked very old, and very worn. Molly started to notice how old this mansion and everything in it must be. She realized that Jim must take really great care of it. (Or he probably had people that kept it clean, she thought).

"This was my dad's mansion, the house I grew up in. But now that he's dead, and everyone else is... gone... I'm the only one who lives in it." Moriarty said suddenly, sinking into the recliner and staring at something on the floor.

Molly curled her eyebrows, intrigued at this new information. It sounded like a lonely life, living in such a spacious house by yourself. She realized that, just like her, he didn't have any family left. He was all alone.

Just like _her_.

"How did your father die?" She asked, hoping he wouldn't get mad that she was asking such a personal question. Maybe she shouldn't have asked (and she had a feeling the answer wasn't pretty) but for some reason she just really wanted to know more about Jim Moriarty. The _real_ Jim.

He looked at her carefully, almost suspiciously.

"It's ok. You can tell me the truth." She told him, giving him a small smile.

He nodded his head slightly and started to smile, but then his smile vanished as memories from the past came flooding in. How did his father die?

"I had a little sister," he began, knowing she would be confused but he kept talking anyway. "She was the only thing in my life that I loved. It was my job to protect her... Our father was abusive. He would drink to no day's end and then take it out on her. For some reason, she always got the worst of if." His face hardened into a scowl.

"My entire childhood I sat and watched as he hurt her and took advantage of her. I tried to do something, but our mother always held me back. She told me to just let it be." His hands formed into fists. "One day he had gone too far. I was 15, she was only 13... I was sick of it. Sick of him. I had been planning the execution of my father for a long time, but only then did I finally act upon it."

Molly remained quiet. He looked up at her and leaned forward in his seat.

"I killed him. I did her the biggest favor anyone could've done- I saved her life, and you know what she did? She turned me away. She told me I was a monster. She was scared of me because of what I had done. She and our mother left right after that; they left me to go who knows where, not bothering to even care about what happens to me... My sister never even said thank you."

Molly remained quiet, shaken up by what she had just heard. Here was this man... so driven by the love for his sister that he had killed his own father for her. And he believed it was an ok thing to do. He believed as if his sister would've thanked him for it. She couldn't help but feel bad for him. His own family left him! And even though he had done something completely horrible and unforgivable, she wanted to say something to comfort him but she didn't know what to say.

The first thing that came out of her mouth was, "My dad is dead too."

Jim looked up at her, his face unreadable, but she thought she might've seen a hint of compassion. Maybe. He opened his mouth to say something but she interrupted, more words spilling out.

"She was 13 when it happened, right? She was just a little girl. Of course she didn't understand what you were trying to do for her... And she was probably so scarred from being hurt so many times by your father, that him suddenly being out of her life like that, she probably didn't know what to do. She was probably so overwhelmed at the idea of being free from all of that, that she got confused and turned her back on the person she trusted the most."

("Also murder is a very bad thing and its illegal and horrible and evil") she wanted to add, but refrained from doing so. Instead she shrugged and looked up to see what he was thinking.

Jim was thinking it over carefully. He looked up at her and slowly, very slowly, the corner of his lips turned up into a soft, sad, smile. Molly returned it.

"I don't even know what I'm saying; I guess I'm just trying to help." Molly muttered, shrugging again.

Jim smiled a little bit wider. "Well, Miss Molly Hooper. You must have a gift for helping people."

Molly started to shake her head, but got caught in the smile he was giving her. That's when she realized how big and brown his eyes were- not just brown but dark brown, more like black, actually. She also realized how slick and perfect-shaped his eyebrows were. She also noted the exact amount of facial hair he had below and above his lips- not too much, but not too little, either.

_Oh no_, she thought to herself. _OH NO. HE'S HOT._

Her cheeks burned but for some reason she didn't feel uncomfortable. She felt a tug at the corner of her lips at seeing his smile; felt her own face melt into a smile. She couldn't stop grinning and she didn't want to. Seeing him like this- genuine and happy- made her happy. This was the real Jim. The real Jim's smile.

And she didn't want it to end.

Suddenly the door to the parlor burst open and in came Sebastian, looking serious and in no mood for grinning. He walked swiftly towards Jim, who stood up (probably already knowing what was wrong), and whispered something in his ear.

Jim stared at him in annoyance. "Right NOW?" he asked, and Seb nodded.

The consulting criminal rested his head in his hands and groaned loudly. Molly wanted to ask what was wrong but she had a feeling she should stay quiet.

"Fine. I'll be right back," Moriarty told Sebastian. "Stay here with Molly; make sure she's _safe_."

Seb nodded his head and replied, "Understood."

As Jim walked away swiftly, Molly turned towards his direction and asked, "What's going on? Where are you going? Safe from _who_?"

He ignored most of her questions and answered, "I'll be right back. I just need to go take care of a few things. Apparently some people don't know how to take a _hiiiiiiiiint_!" He sang the last word.

Molly raised her eyebrow. "Wait, what? Who?"

Jim sighed and looked back at her. "No one you need to worry about. Just an old 'friend' of mine who's been giving me trouble lately. Tootles!"

After that he was gone, leaving the two in uncomfortable silence. Molly sat on the couch and Seb just stood there, hands in his pocket and looking around awkwardly.

It actually gave Molly time to think. She realized she hadn't even tried to escape. Then she realized she hadn't even _wanted_ to escape. Should she try to now? She got a feeling she wouldn't get that far, with Seb being a professional sniper and all. He wasn't carrying a sniper rifle now, however...

"Soo... Sebastian..."

"Seb."

"Huh?"

"You can call me Seb."

"Oh, alright. Seb... Um, is there any ice cream left?"

Seb smirked in an amused sort of way and then lead her back to the kitchen, where they then proceeded to break out the ice cream.

Where Molly also discovered that Jim_ HAD A PROBLEM_.

I mean, she knew he liked ice cream, but she didn't know he loved it _this_ much. He had practically a million flavors. Rocky Road, German Chocolate Cake, Cookies n' Cream, Cupcake Sprinkles, Blueberry Cheesecake, Rocky Mountain Road, Cookie Dough, Wild n' Wreckless Sherbert; you name it, he had it.

Molly helped herself to some cookie dough ice cream, remembering when she and Jim from IT had gone out for ice cream for one of their dates. She had gotten cookie dough and he, rocky road.

"Do you want any?" Molly asked Seb, who was sitting across from her on the other side of the counter.

He shook his head no.

"More for me..." Molly joked, but to her dismay he didn't laugh or smile or anything.

She tried again.

"So...hehe... Isn't it weird that he has a flavor called 'cupcake sprinkles'?" She asked him, laughing at the thought of Jim owning _anything_ named "cupcake sprinkles."

Seb didn't laugh. "That's mine, actually."

Molly spit out ice cream back into her bowl and stared at him in horror.

He just smirked at her and said, "Just kidding. It's his; I don't like ice cream."

The brown hair girl sighed in relief, wiping her face with a napkin and thinking, so he DOES have a sense of humor! Sort of.

She smiled. "Ha, you got me. How do you not like ice cream?"

"I'm just not big on sweets or sugar."

"Well you're missing out!"

Seb smirked and replied, "Not sure about that. Jim ate so much ice cream the other night, he threw up twice. Had to drive and get him some stronger medicine."

Molly grimaced. "Aw goodness! Why'd he eat so much ice cream? I know he likes it but doesn't he have any self-control?" Surprisingly she had an easy time picturing Jim shoving his face with ice cream, enough to make himself sick. She realized that she was still seeing him as a good guy; Jim from IT. No, she knew he wasn't Jim from IT. But she wasn't seeing him as he truly was; a dangerous mental murderer. A 15 year old boy who had killed his own father. She set her ice cream down and frowned, letting that sink in.

She was in the house of a psychopathic murderer, who had kidnapped her.

She was eating his ice cream.

Talking to a sniper who worked for him.

...She had to get out of there, before he came back.

She had to get out. _NOW_.

"-on and on about someone that he couldn't get out of his head," Seb was saying, but Molly was paying him no attention. "Freaking out over nothing, if you ask me. And then he threw up."

Molly looked up from staring at the kitchen door when he was finished talking. She smiled at him, hoping he hadn't sensed anything was off yet.

"Can you direct me to the bathroom?" She asked.

Seb stood up. "Sure. Follow me."

He lead her to the bathroom and, much to her delight, left when they arrived to give her some privacy. She slipped in and locked the door.

Like every other room in Jim's mansion, the bathroom was huge. The bathtub was floor-level and three sizes bigger than any regular bathtub, there was also a step-in shower and three sinks (with fancy shell-shaped bars of soap) and the toilet was on a fancy toilet pedestal thingy.

And there was a window.

Molly ran to it, threw the curtains back, and opened the window. She looked outside and much to her alarm, she was too far up to just climb out and walk away. She estimated two stories up, but even then it still felt higher than that. Below was a corner of the garden that she had seen before.

She looked around the bathroom for something- a rope, or sheet- anything, but to no avail. The curtains were too short and wouldn't have worked anyway. Molly sighed in frustration. She looked outside the window again and saw that there were thick vines trailing along the wall of the mansion, probably thick enough to climb.

Suddenly Seb's voice came from the other side of the bathroom door, asking if she was okay.

"Yeah, I'll be right out."

"Ok."

Molly swallowed her fear and then climbed out the window onto the ledge. She grabbed onto the vines, held on for dear life, and began her descent. She climbed slowly at first but then increased speed when she heard the doorknob of the bathroom being jiggled. Her heart sped up.

She was almost to the ground when suddenly her foot got caught on a tangled vine and it caused her to fall to the ground, hurting her shoulder. She ignored it for now and scrambled up to a standing position at the same time that the door in the bathroom broke open. Heart dropping, she realized that Seb was about to figure out what was going on.

Quickly thinking, she ran into the garden and hid behind a couple of trees and thick brush clumped together. She held her breath when she heard Seb at the window, cursing under his breath. As soon as she was positive that he was gone, she abandoned her hiding spot and ran as fast as she could, barefoot, away from Jim's garden, away from his mansion.

She ran and tried not to look back.

* * *

"..."

"Hello?"

"She's gone. She escaped."

"What?!"

"Want me to go after her?"

"No, no. Not needed. But still... she escaped _you_? Impressive. Very impressive."

"Yeah, we're all _amazed_. When are you going to do it?"

"Do what?"

"Kill her, what else?"

"..."

"Jim?"

"I'm THINKING."

"The other night when you ate all that ice cream and threw up...when you were complaining about someone complicating your life..."

"..."

"You weren't talking about Jones, were you?"

"You know what? You were right. I should just stop eating ice cream."

"Jim."

"Seriously, I'm going to do it. No more ice cream for me. I'll give it all to you."

"JIM."

"Oh wait, I forgot. You're on that diet thingy-"

"_JIM_. Boss. Please don't tell me you're falling in love with this girl? She's collateral damage. The sooner you get rid of her, the better."

"...Oh, Seb. Sebby, Sebby, Seb...listen closely. She's an _asset_. She helped Sherlock fake his death, which means she was a confidante for him. During the two years he was dismantling my network, pretending to be dead, I'm certain he had contact with her. She has information on him that I need, and as soon as I have it, she's dead. The only reason he's still alive is because I'm letting her live."

"...Understood."

_CLICK_

Jim slipped his phone back into his pocket. He took one last glance around the room before leaving, closing the door softly behind him, and taking off his gloves. Walking away from the soon-to-be crime scene, he thought about what he had just told Seb. About killing Molly after getting the information he needed. His thoughts drifted off towards the moment they were smiling at each other. The way she had smiled at him... the way she had tried to comfort him, the way she stands up to him and asks a million questions and gets stubborn and adorable at the same time.

_I'm NOT falling in love with a little mouse_, Moriarty thought to himself stubbornly.

_Am I?_

* * *

A/N: YES. YES YOU ARE JIMMY MAH BOY.

Ok well thar it is. Don't know WHAT I was doing with the whole "Jim loves ice cream" thing, but I did. And just to let you know I don't know how Sebastian looks or acts, so I'm doing the best I can with what I know about him.

Anywho I hope you liked it!


	5. Chapter 5 Mousy Molly

A/N: HEY GUYS. Here's chapteh five. I hope yall like it! :D

WARNING: this chapter contains some Sherlolly. Just to let yall know. I personally ship both Molliarty and Sherlolly, but this story is Molliarty endgame.

Please don't skip the chapter if you don't like Sherlolly! D: I promise it's nothing majorly major.

Yeah. Kbye.

Chapter 5 - Mousy Molly

* * *

Monday morning and Molly had returned to work. Her day went on in her usual routine. A quick breakfast, catch a cab to work, make small talk to fellow co-workers (_don't_ tell anyone about being kidnapped by the world's most dangerous and only consulting criminal Jim Moriarty), and then go to the coffee shop across the street for lunch.

A couple of her co-workers had asked her about her shoulder (which was still sore from falling while climbing down Moriarty's bathroom window). She had covered it up by telling them that she had accidentally tripped over her cat.

Toby was fine, of course.

After lunch, Molly was about to return to work when suddenly her phone beeped, indicating a text message. Butterflies entered her stomach when she saw that it was a text from Sherlock.

_[Sherlock:]_

_[come ASAP. If convenient]_

Molly frowned, wondering what Sherlock needed, and a bit irritated that he couldn't _ask_ her to come, or at least explain why he needed her. She sent him a quick reply, not expecting to get one in return.

_[Molly:]_

_[yes Sherlock? Do u need something?]_

When it was five minutes later and he still hadn't replied, Molly groaned in frustration. She decided to just go over to Baker Street and make sure he was okay.

_Just_ to check on him.

A quick cab ride later, Molly was standing at the door of 221b Baker Street. She knocked on the door a couple of times, but nobody answered, so she opened it and walked inside.

"Sherlock?" Molly wondered aloud, wandering inside and eventually finding the man of question. He was sitting comfortably in his chair, dressed in a silky blue robe, and holding his hands to his face while closing his eyes.

"Uh... Sherlock?"

He remained in silence.

"Sherlock? Did you need something?"

"Ah yes..." The man replied, his voice a thin drawl and his eyes still closed. "Would you mind making me some tea?"

Molly almost dropped her purse.

"_Excuse_ me?"

"Mrs. Hudson is out."

"_So_?"

"So I need someone to make me some tea."

"Why can't you do it?"

"Because I'm thinking."

"_Everyone_ thinks, Sherlock."

"I'm sure that's what you all choose to believe."

Molly stood there, fuming at him, and wishing for once she would've just ignored his stupid text message. She was fed up of him always pushing her around and thinking he could make her do whatever he wanted.

Without another word, Molly turned around and started walking away.

"Molly- wait!"

The brown-haired morgue specialist stopped. She wanted so badly to just leave and get back to work (because she knew whatever Sherlock wanted would lead to trouble), but at the same time she wanted to turn around and help him. Do whatever he needed doing. Just to be with him.

Even if it meant having to deal with his obnoxiousness.

"That's actually not why I called you here," Sherlock told her, referring to the tea. "I need your help, Molly. I need your help looking for Moriarty."

Molly immediately froze.

Sherlock jumped up from his chair and glided over to stand in front of his shorter companion. He looked down at her; his face leaving no traces of boredom.

"I need your help tracking down James Moriarty."

"Why would you need my help?" Molly asked him, trying to appear normal and pushing all nervous feelings aside. "What about John?"

Sherlock promptly rolled his eyes.

"John is too busy with Mary buying baby items for Sherlock Jr. He doesn't have time for this."

Molly scrunched up her lips. She tried to avoid Sherlock's gaze but found that it was (seriously tho why did she even bother fighting it) inevitable.

He looked at her. She looked at him.

He blinked.

"Ok, _ok_! I'll help. _Gosh_, Sherlock. Just- one condition. If we _do_ find where Moriarty is or whatever, then we _don't_ try to confront him. Got it?"

Sherlock smirked.

"Got it. Off we go!"

* * *

So off they went. Searching the streets of London, going this way and that way, asking around what people had seen, what people had heard. The homeless network was very helpful at this point, and they managed to find out that Jim Moriarty had been spotted multiple times, very close to St. Bartholomew's Hospital.

They were in the middle of a conversation with Wiggins, who had just informed them of yet ANOTHER sighting of Moriarty close to St. Bartholomew's Hospital, when Sherlock realized something was wrong.

Terribly, terribly wrong.

"-no one else has seen him as of late, but my mates say that-"

"Molly!" Sherlock interrupted, turning towards her, who had her arms crossed and whose attention was somewhere far away from the matter at hand.

The girl looked up. "Hm? Yes?"

"I think you and I have done enough work for today. What say ye?"

"Oh, um- yeah I think we've done good. Sure."

Sherlock nodded his head at her, indicating a "job well done", but on the inside he was confused. Very, very confused by the girl who mattered most.

"Yes, well, excellent work Wiggins. Thank you for the info. Just tell everyone else to keep a sharp eye out for him." Sherlock said, handing him a piece of paper (with a wad of cash folded into it). Wiggins accepted it gratefully and replied,

"No problem, Sherlock. I'll tell 'em. We'll find this bloke, no matter what it takes."

Molly tried not to react.

* * *

Sherlock and Molly found themselves at a small cafe, eating a late lunch. Or an early dinner. Or just _whatever_ you wanna call it.

Molly was eating, and Sherlock was eyeing her carefully, still disconcerted by the fact that something was terribly wrong with her.

"Molly," he began, wanting to get straight to the point. What better way to get what you needed then by asking a question?

"Yes?" She asked, looking up at him.

"I noticed that when we found out Moriarty had been close to the hospital you work at, you didn't seem very shocked. Or concerned, or frightened. In fact, it didn't seem like you were very interested at all in our investigation."

Molly slowly looked away, back to her food. She took another bite of her sandwich and chewed at a normal pace, thinking of something to say.

"It was a long weekend for me, Sherlock. Nothing's wrong, I'm just really tired is all. And I'm sorry if I don't seem _interested_ in finding a guy that wants to kill me."

Sherlock blinked.

"Maybe I just don't get as excited about these things as you do." She finished, looking back up at him.

Sherlock Holmes nodded, finding that this was a fair enough reason.

However, he had more questions.

"Why did you refuse police protection?" He asked her, his hands clasped together and resting on the table; his food completely forgotten. "Also, what was it like dating Jim Moriarty? Did he say anything to you that would've hinted him having an ulterior motive for dating you? Were there times when he seemed a bit _off_? Did he ever-?"

Molly sighed, deciding finally to just tune him out. It seemed that every time something good was happening between her and Sherlock, he always found a way to ruin it.

Suddenly her phone buzzed, and she opened her purse to see who the text was from.

_[Jim:]_

_[I do hope you are enjoying yourself xoxo -JM]_

Molly's blood coiled. What was _he_ doing texting her?! Especially when Sherlock was so close? And how did he even get her number?

Even though there was no way Sherlock could see the screen of her phone from the place he was sitting, across from her with a table in between them, she slanted her phone inwards and pulled her purse closer towards her body just to make sure.

"-not asking because I want to invade your personal space, I just want to make sure I know everything that you do about Jim Moriarty." Sherlock finished, apparently making an entire speech on the subject.

Molly quickly looked up at the same time that he finished his "speech." When he did, he smiled at her brightly, showing all his teeth.

She smiled back, hoping that the fact she was about to die because of a text message didn't show.

"Um, well, there really isn't much to tell." Molly mumbled, looking down awkwardly.

She regretted that mistake immediately.

_[Jim:]_

_[it was very rude of u to just leave the other day. you didn't even say goodbye -JM]_

_Oh my goodness!_ Molly thought desperately, going back and forth between the choices of texting him back to tell him to stop, or just turning her phone off. She knew which choice she SHOULD do, but a part of her was a bit intrigued. How _did_ he get her number?

Between the time they had dated and then when she had found out he was a criminal, she had gotten a new phone.

Why was he even texting her anyway?!

"Nonsense, Molly, I'm sure there's plenty to tell." Sherlock replied, snapping her out of her thoughts.

_[Jim:]_

_[oh dear, oh dear. I do hope u don't tell him EVERYTHING. he probably wouldn't be happy with the details -JM]_

Molly's face immediately turned red. Sherlock raised his eyebrow.

"Um- seriously, Sherlock, the details- I mean- _nothing_ really happened that would help you find him." She told her curly-haired partner. Her phone was shoved deeper into her purse as she began texting back at lightning speed. "He only used me to get close to you. That's all."

_[Molly:]_

_[Stop texting me! How did you get my number? And how did you even get into my contacts? Where are you? Bloody stalker!]_

Molly looked up to find Sherlock in deep thought, probably disappointed by the lack of information she was able to give. She felt kind of bad for it, but at the same time she _didn't_ feel bad. She felt like the victim. Sherlock was demanding questions while Moriarty was supposedly out to kill her, when in reality he had already "been there, done that" and now he wouldn't leave her alone! And he had threatened to kill her if she told anyone about their little meetings, or whatever he wanted to call them.

Molly glared hard at nothing in particular. He was _blackmailing_ her! And for what? For his own self pleasure? He wasn't taking adventure of her or anything, in fact it didn't seem like he wanted anything from her at all. At first it was about information on Sherlock, but now it seemed like all he wanted was to _mess_ with her.

Molly's eyes went wide.

_[Jim:]_

_[oh darling, u are adorable. if u want me to stop texting u, don't ask a million questions]_

_[Jim:]_

_[how did I get your number? Not telling!]_

_[Jim:]_

_[and if u REALLY want to know, I'm across the street. with seb.]_

Suddenly Molly's stomach felt odd. She didn't know if she had butterflies or if she was going to throw up. She did know, however, what had brought them: the possibility that _Jim Moriarty_...

But, NO, it was silly. IMPOSSIBLE, even...

...the mere chance that Jim had a _crush_ on her.

_[Jim:]_

_[seb says hi]_

Molly stood up so fast that the glass drinks on the table fell and shattered, spilling water and glass everywhere.

Everyone in the cafe stared.

Sherlock gazed at her, the worry evident in his eyes. He stood next to her and placed a hand on her shoulder (a comforting gesture that Molly noted was _not_ something Sherlock would usually do.)

"What's wrong?"

"I just... I need to go. My boss is going to kill me for skipping work like that."

Sherlock gave her a kind smile. Molly found it highly disturbing.

"Don't worry, I'll make sure you're not fired. I know your boss personally."

"Thanks." She didn't know what else to say. She just knew she had to get out of there that instant. She couldn't be with Sherlock if _HE_ was there. Watching, listening.

Waiting.

"Molly, before you go. I need to ask you a question..."

Molly almost screamed. Enough with the questions!

"How is..." Sherlock searched his mind palace for the right name. "...Toby?"

The young girl blinked in surprise. "Oh! He's good, thank you." She smiled graciously, happy that he remembered her cat's name. "Why do you ask?"

Without warning, Sherlock stepped closer to her, dramatically decreasing their distance. Molly's cheeks turned red. She dashed her eyes left and right, wondering what the heck he was doing.

"Um, Sherlock-"

"Molly, until I find Moriarty and he is safely behind bars, I think it would be best if you came and lived with me. For your own protection."

Molly curled her eyebrows, surprised yet again by his actions. And also just a little bit offended.

"I don't like the idea of you out there alone," he continued speaking in a hushed tone. "I know you can protect yourself but you don't know how dangerous this man is."

Molly almost snorted.

"That's really kind of you Sherlock but I... I don't know how I feel about that. Thank you for the offer. I'll think about it."

Sherlock nodded and then smiled kindly. Molly returned the favor. After that she bid him goodbye and then took a cab ride back to work.

* * *

Mousy Molly made her way through the crowded streets and entered a cab. The cab drove and drove, far far away until it was just a dot in the distance, and even through binoculars it could not be seen.

Moriarty sighed loudly before setting his binoculars down.

"Oh, Seb, this game just got _much_ more interesting." the consulting criminal said, smirking through his eyes from the rooftop of a building. Seb, crouching down next to Moriarty, refrained from rolling his eyes.

"If you say so, Boss." He leaned back and continued polishing his L42 Enfield.

"Do you think she'll take his offer?" Moriarty asked, squinting into the distance. His grip on the binoculars tightened.

"I sure hope not. S'gonna be a lot harder to get close to her if she's living with Sherlock Holmes."

Jim smirked ingeniously, but that quickly dissolved into a solicitous scowl.

"Oh, Seb, don't worry one bit. She won't take his offer."

Sebastian looked up from his gun and raised an eyebrow.

"How do you know?"

"Because she's stubborn. And she knows she has nothing she needs protection from."

The smirk was back on his face. Seb went back to polishing.

"You have absolutely _nothing_ to worry about, Seb. Nothing at all."

* * *

A/N: Muahahahahah!

This chapter was fun.

Anywho, Jim was pretty much trying to reassure _himself_ at the end there. And Molly needs to get over her silly crush on Sherlock (skipping work? tsking, tsking, tsking). And Sherlock needs to GET OVER THE FACT that John and Mary are not naming their baby over him!

Oh how I love these characters.

Please review! If you do I will send you a basket of Sherlock shaped muffins that will come down on a cloud, delivered on your doorstep.

I PROMISE. (donttrustmeillproablyeatthemallcough)

_-Lurky_


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